


Quid Pro Quo

by BlueSpectre



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reckless Driving, Third Person POV, Victim Blaming, Wet Dream, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-07 14:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6809329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSpectre/pseuds/BlueSpectre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Johnny Gat was being held and tortured by the Morningstar and the Saints rescued him.<br/>- - -<br/>Mutual feelings were always a bitch to get out. Especially when those involved would rather shoot themselves in the foot than admit they had feelings for their best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You know you haven't gotten laid in a while when you start having wet dreams about a man you just rescued from being imprisoned and tortured by a rival gang.

The Boss had woken up in a heavy sweat, panting like he was out of breath. His purple satin sheets were soaked and clung to the skin of his back - downside to sleeping naked - and he couldn't see a damn thing besides the clock on his nightstand. 

4:30 am. Great. Fat chance of him falling back asleep before he had to be back up again before 7. Especially now that his sheets were soaked with his sweat. Not to mention, he was rock hard. And that made falling asleep a little difficult. 

Silence rang in his ears but nothing else. No movement from downstairs, no beds rocking, not even a whisper. The party must have ended hours ago and everyone was either passed out or asleep. 

The Boss sighed and lay spread eagle across his bed with his arms limp at both sides. 

When he closed his eyes and the details of his dream came flooding back. Johnny was spread over the satin - much like he was now - with nothing on but those stupid sunglasses on his face. He was touching himself with one hand and beckoning Boss to him with the other. 

_ “Get over here. I know you want it.” _ Gat’s voice had sounded grossly lustful and Boss wanted nothing more than to just hold that asshole down and ride him until neither of them could remember their names. 

The thought of having that man on top of him sent the Boss almost panting again. 

He opened his eyes for a split second before closing them tight again as he began to roughly stroke himself. His free hand gripped at the sheets and he pressed his head hard into the pillow. 

His “moans” were nothing more than strangled breaths that huffed out of his lungs. Pre-cum dripped down and slicked down his shaft as he stroked, Boss biting his lip to keep himself quiet. 

It was one thing for the others to hear that he was in here with someone, he didn't give a shit about that. But to hear him now, when he was powerful enough to have anyone he fuckin’ wanted but instead was jacking off to the image of another man touching himself was kinda sad. 

Boss whined with pleasure when he began to kneed his balls with his other hand. Soon he found himself bucking his hips along with the rhythm of his hand, throwing his head back and biting his lip harder to keep control. 

He pictured the first time he and Gat had sex. They were both clumsy and nervous but wouldn't admit the latter even if someone held a gun to their head. It wasn't Gat’s first time with another man, but he was suddenly going to fuck one he's known since the beginning of it all. That, and it was the Boss’ first time bottoming to someone and that honestly scared the shit out of him. 

But, God, was it hot despite a few fuck ups. 

He remembered Gat’s heavy breathing as he thrusted into the man under him. The sweat that formed all along his perfectly scalped body, his fucked up hair from Boss clinging to his head, as if he was going to drown if he let go. 

How he flipped the Boss over onto his stomach and pounded into him so hard that the headboard repeatively slammed against the wall. 

The absolutely filthy sounds he made when he reached his climax, his callused hands stroking the Boss’ painfully hard cock without mercy as they both rode out their orgasm. 

“Oh,  _ FUCK _ .” Boss moaned loud as his release ribboned across his stomach. Well, so much for keeping quiet. 

As he lay panting for breath again both hands were resting on his thighs, the whole area still sensitive even after orgasm. 

Boss looked down at himself, suddenly feeling shame and embarrassement creep into his chest. He scooted his body to the edge of his bed and reached down to the floor, hand fumbling around blindly in the dark until his fingers found purchase at his discarded shirt. 

He wiped it down his stomach and tossed the soiled garment somewhere into the darkness. 

His minds gave him a final image of Johnny licking him clean, saying how much of a waste it would have been otherwise. Boss groaned and flipped onto his side before pulling the covers over himself. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh God, Boss!” 

“I'm almost there, almost there.”

“I can't hold it anymore, it hurts!” 

“Almost there, almost, almost-- Shit!” 

“What?” 

“It fucking broke.”

“What?! Are you serious? Fuck, I can feel it dripping!”

“Relax, Kinzie.”

“You relax! Do you know how much of a risk I'm taking?”

“Can't you just get another one?”

“Do you know how hard it was to get this in the first place?” Kinzie flicked her hand to rid herself of the goo that dripped down her arm. “You get it this time, it's  _ your _ car.”

Boss sighed and put the wrench he had been using on the ground, wiping the grease off his forehead. Or at least he tried, his action only succeeded in wiping more of the black ooze on his skin. 

His prised Bootlegger - that he stole from a pimp - had been acting up lately. He'd been hearing a weird rattling noise within the hood, finding out that something with the engine was fucked. Eventually, the damn thing shit out completely, leaving the Boss stranded in the middle of the Sunset Park the other day. 

He had already replaced four parts - the fifth one now snapped in half - and still it wouldn't purr. The Boss had spent all night bent over the hood, falling asleep in a weird-ass position that had his arms crossed on the engine with his head resting in the crook. Kinzie had woken him up and it had felt like someone was performing a Russian folk dance behind his rib cage when he stood straight. 

The techie then pulled some strings - Boss not wanting to know what that involved - to get another piece for the engine that he needed to replace. A piece that Rim Jobs didn't sell to its customers, the only way to get it being to actually  _ leave _ the car in their shop and no way in the seven layers of hell was Boss  _ ever _ going to leave this beautiful machine with a bunch of grease monkies. 

But that piece was now broken, and the engine would have been leaking oil everywhere if the Boss hadn't shoved his finger into the hole. 

Not the first time  _ that’s  _ happened. 

“Maybe next time, drain the oil.” Kinzie suggested, her tone conveying her exhaustion with the crime lord. 

He had no snappy comeback. He didn't even think about doing that. 

“So what now?” Kinzie asked, crossing her arms over her chest. The grease that had run down her forearm was now smeared on the front of her white tank top but she didn't seem to care. 

“I don't know,” said Boss, wiping sweat out of his eyes with a hand towel he kept draped over his shoulder. He almost wiped the grease off his hands onto his own shirt but realized that he wasn't wearing one. It had been discarded to the ground in a heap hours ago. He settled for wiping them on his pants instead. 

“I guess just go get another part.”

Kinzie let out an ugly snort. “When I said that it was near impossible to pry that part out of their hands the first time, did it just go in one ear and right out the other?” she asked. “They're not gonna give you another one.”

“They will if I bring a gun,” Boss sang, pointing a finger in the air for emphasis and Kinzie rolled her eyes. He grabbed the electrical tape that sat on the side of the hood and taped the hole he plugged with his finger closed. It would hold for as long as he needed it to. 

“Guns and cars?” Boss heard a familiar, deep chuckle behind him and he tried to ignore the thundering in his chest that started upon hearing it. 

“Count me in.” 

“You literally just got back from the claws of the Morningstar, who tortured you mercilessly for half a year, two days ago.” Kinzie pointed out. “There's no way you're not in pain right now.”

“Don't worry about me, kitten. I can handle a little discomfort.” Johnny responded, a smirk on his chiseled face.

“Ew,” the techie groaned. “Don't  _ ever _ call me kitten.” She turned and retreated back indoors, her pace quick. Funny, it was almost as if she hated being outside. 

“What’s wrong with the car?” Johnny asked as he wandered over with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He lightly kicked the back tire of the Bootlegger to empathise his question. 

“Engine’s fucked,” said Boss as he pulled his shirt back on over his body. “Kinzie was able to get me the last part I needed but the thing broke because I screwed it too tight.” 

Johnny laughed again. “Man, if I had a dollar…” 

“Just shuddup and get in the car.” 

“Thought it was fucked,” Johnny teased, watching as Boss walked towards a pick-up. 

“This one, dumbass.” the crime lord called back as he climbed into the truck. It was painted like the Bootlegger; black paint with purple trim and tinted windows. The rims of the wheels were a blindingly reflective silver and a bright violet light shined underneath the vehicle as it roared to life. 

It was how the gang - and others - knew that  _ this  _ car belonged to the Boss.

“How many fuckin’ cars do you own?” Johnny found himself asking as he plopped himself into the passenger seat. The Boss has always had a shit ton of vehicles at his disposal, and sometimes he  _ still  _ stole a parked - or not - car when he was too lazy to walk down a few blocks. Johnny also had no idea where in the hell he kept these things. 

“Seven and counting,” Boss gloated, barely even waiting for Johnny to close his door before pulling out of the hidden lot. 

“Then why are you so hung-” 

“Damn right I’m hung!” Boss whooped and honked the truck’s horn, scaring the shit out of the driver in front of him, causing them to swerve right into a pole. The fucking drivers in this city, man. 

Nevertheless, Gat chuckled again. “- _ Up _ on one car? You can just go out and get a new one.” 

“Because that Bootlegger is my  _ baby _ . I stole it from a pimp that had a shitton of Morningstar guards and I took them all down single handedly!” The Boss glowed with pride in himself and Johnny offered a soft applause. “‘Ah thank you. It was also the first car that I got after being fucked over by the Syndicate and I’ve spent too much money into it now to just get rid of it.” Horns screeched behind them as Boss ploughed right through a red light at an intersection. 

“So, we’re gonna go to Rim Jobs and get that part I need. Even if we have to shove a gun in their face to do so.” 

“Ha! That’s what I’m about, man!” laughed the other Saint, immediately regretting his outburst as he winced and grabbed his hurting side. It felt like someone had stabbed him in the ribs. 

“You alright, big guy?” asked the Boss, offering a concerned side glance. 

“Yeah yeah, I’m good. Just a little sore.” said Johnny, his voice strained and clearly portraying his discomfort. 

“The Morningstar really fucked you up, huh?” The tone in Boss’ voice had dropped into something unpleasant and sad. 

Johnny knew that he and Shaundi  _ still  _ felt like what happened to him was their fault. That they could have done something to stop it. He knew that was bullshit, though, he would have stayed back even if they  _ had _ begged him to come with them. There was no pulling him away from caving Loren’s stupid fucking face in with his fist, even if the Boss and Shaundi tried to pull him away.

But no matter how many times he’s told them this, both of their moods soured whenever that night on the plane was mentioned. They could be high, drunk - or both - and just in a good mood for no damn reason other than they just  _ were _ . And as soon as someone even said the word “plane”, Boss’ eyes lost their shine and Shaundi slumped down in her seat. 

Johnny decided to laugh it off. “Yeah, but I ain’t dead.” 

_ ‘Thank fucking god.’  _

The Boss nearly blacked out right there at the wheel, barreling down the highway at 90 miles per hour. Did he just fucking say that out loud? He looked over to Johnny for a moment and saw the other man laying his head back against the seat’s headrest with his eyes closed. If Boss  _ had _ said that out loud like he feared, then Gat would be looking at him like he just grew a second head. 

He raspberried his lips as he sighed and surpassed someone going at least ten miles under the speed limit. He heard Johnny let out a faint, pained hiss at the sudden jerking movement. 

“Christ,” he groaned. “Forgot you drive like an old lady that can see over the fuckin’ steering wheel.” 

“Any other time you love it.” Boss teased. 

“Any other time I don’t have a bruised rib cage, asshole.” Johnny spat back, flipping his friend off when they looked at him with their bottom puckered into a “You poor baby,” frown. 

Boss smirked and rested his elbow outside of the open window next to him, making it a point to slow down and take it easy for Gat’s sake. He could always cause carnage later when his companion wouldn’t crumble at the breeze. 

His ears then picked up the sound of a gun being cocked, looking over to see Johnny loading a .45 Shepherd. 

“Easy,” said Boss, carefully bringing his hand down onto the gun and lowering it to Johnny’s lap. “Don’t get so trigger happy yet.”  _ Now _ Gat was looking at him like he grew a second head. And an arm out of his stomach to boot. 

“You fuckin’ serious? You’re telling  _ me _ not to be trigger happy?  _ You _ , of all people?” 

“I know, I know. Cherish the thought.”

“I wish I got that on tape,” Johnny snorted. “No one’s gonna believe me when I tell ‘em you fucking said that to me.” 

“Just shut up and listen,” said Boss, pulling on a purple Saints hoodie over his dirty Guns N’ Roses t-shirt when they stopped at a red light. “This is the  _ one _ Rim Jobs that I don’t own in this city, and if we go in there guns blazing they’re gonna be even less willing to sell to me.” 

“That’s it? You just wanna buy some shitty autoshop?” 

“Well, yeah.” the Boss said, looking as if Johnny’s words confused him. “Gets us more money.” 

Gat snorted, and not in a lighthearted way. “That what it’s about anymore?” he mumbled, his words meant only for his ears. But the Boss heard him, and he knew this would start a fight because the crime lord was incapable of keeping his mouth shut. 

“The hell do you mean ‘what it’s about’?”

“Money, man. That’s all you give a shit about anymore.” Gat retorted. “Bein’ a Saint used to mean more than just being the face of some shitty clothing line or the name of an energy drink that tastes like bull-piss.” 

“And what  _ did _ it mean, Johnny? Back when we were just some stray kids that got picked up off the streets? Back when Julius was in charge?” The Boss did nothing to hide the anger that was creeping into his voice. “It didn’t mean shit. Nothing more than some prick’s comedy routine!” 

“We got shit done back then.” 

“We get shit done now!” the Boss defended. “Only this time we aren’t laughed at when our fucking backs are turned! People  _ fear _ us, Gat. I could walk into any motherfucker on the street and  _ they’re _ the ones that apologize.” 

“Even if it’s your fault?” Gat sounded unimpressed and annoyed with the Boss’ outburst. 

‘Yes! As it fucking should be.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Johnny shook his head and laughed to himself in his disbelief. “The fuck happened to you?” 

“You wouldn’t know, would you?” Boss snapped. “Trapped in that fuckin’ basement being made the Morningstar’s bitch, waiting for  _ me _ to save you because you couldn’t do it yourself.” He knew his words were cutting deep, but he couldn’t stop.

He hated himself for it. 

“The Saints are everything that they fucking should be and more and  _ I’m _ the one that brought them here.” 

Johnny wasn’t even looking at him anymore. 

“But you just wouldn’t fucking know that, would you?” he repeated. 

The truck stopped in the autoshop’s parking lot and Gat stepped out, shoving his gun into his coat.

“Let’s get this over with.” 

* * *

 

Luckily, no guns had to be drawn. The owner’s son was “holding down the fort” and based on personal experience, it wasn’t hard to tell that the boy was so high off his ass that he didn’t even know he was standing on solid ground. He just let Boss take what he needed and leave with no issue. 

But despite the victory, it rang hollow because the drive back to Kinzie’s hideout was awkward and silent. Gat kept his gaze to outside of the passenger window and Boss knew what he said must have hurt. But he wouldn’t apologize, something wasn’t letting him. Gat had just gotten out of the car and sulked away without a word when they finally got there and Boss went to his car. 

“What happened?” Kinzie asked as she watched Johnny leave. 

“I got the part.” said the Boss simply, lifting up the Bootlegger’s hood.

“No, I mean with you and Johnny.” she clarified. 

“Nothing. Help me with this, would ‘ya?” 

Kinzie gave the gang leader a sceptical look before sauntering over. 

The Boss’ previous words kept replaying in his head, over and over again. Each time he heard them just made him want to bash his head against the engine until be blacked out. He knew he fucked up and he knew he had to fix it. 

The question was, however, how in the hell was he going to suppress his pride enough to do the right thing?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote the first part of the story in first person to show how Ethan deals with his "feelings".  
> The next chapter will bring smut ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)

Shaundi was a surprisingly good motivator. 

And by motivator, I mean she's absolutely emasculating when she's pissed off. 

“What the fuck did you say to Johnny?” she snarled as she shoved me so hard I hit the wall behind me with a loud thunk. Most assholes like me would say she was “hot” when she's angry. 

But that's not the case. She’s fucking terrifying. 

“I don't know what you're talking about.” But here's me, playing the idiot. Although I will admit, I wasn't expecting her to punch me in the lower gut. 

“Ow, fuck! Jesus, Shaundi!” I groaned as I doubled over and nearly coughed my lungs out. The pissed off she-monster then grabbed me by the collar of my blazer and forced me against the wall again. My head smacking against drywall was not a pleasant feeling. 

“Don't give me that shit,  _ Ethan _ ,” Yikes. Last time I heard my name spit like that I didn't sit straight for a week. And it wasn't even the result of something fun. 

“Johnny's been weird for two days and when I finally got him to spit out what's wrong, I find out that  _ you’re  _ the reason why.” Shaundi tightened her ridiculously strong grip on my collar and I actually found myself praying that she couldn't feel me swallow hard. 

Huh. Never thought I'd want that. 

“So you're gonna tell me what you said.” 

“And if I don't?”

“Then I'm going to drag your stupid ass to the roof and throw you off of it.”

Fair enough. 

. . . 

I honestly though Shaundi was going to stab me with the heel of her boot when I finished explaining what went down between me and Gat the other day. Instead, she just sat there for a moment and stared me down like she were a predator and I was the unlucky fuck that she latched her talons into.

She leaned forward on the couch across from me and put her elbows on her knees, rubbing her tired face with a hand. A hand that she no doubt wanted to strangle me with. 

“What the fuck,” she sighed, not looking at me anymore. “Possessed you to say that shit to him?”

_ “I'm gonna have to get back to you on that, Shaundi, because I don't even fucking know either!”  _

I'm not sure if it was a smarter option, but I just shrugged instead of saying what I thought. 

_ “Because I'm a fucking idiot,” _

_ “Because I'm incapable of handling my emotions in a healthy way,”  _

_ “Because I might have feelings for Johnny that I've never felt for anyone before and that scares the shit out of me so I push him away in hopes that it all blows away if I ignore it.” _

Yep. Shrugging totally sums it up.

Shaundi sighed again and looked at me this time. She looked tired - of my bullshit, probably - but her anger from earlier was mostly gone. I think.

“You're such an asshole, you know that?” Guilty as charged. “I'm surprised Johnny didn't just knock you the hell out. I know I would have if you said that shit to me.”

“I wouldn't say something like that to you.”

“Then why the fuck did you say it to Johnny?” she hissed, anger creeping back into her voice. She then kicked my shin before I could shrug again. “Don't fucking shrug at me! I want a goddamn answer-”

“I don't fucking know, okay?!” I snapped, standing up from my seat on the couch. My outburst caused a few Saints to look over, but a murderous glare from me sent them scrambling away like they were cockroaches and a light just flicked on. 

“I fucked up, okay? I know I did and I know what I said was bullshit,” Shaundi didn't look very impressed with my answer, she just sat with her legs and arms crossed. 

“And I don't know why I said it, I just did. Maybe I  _ am _ just an asshole, or maybe I'm so fucked up in the head from the time I thought he was dead that I'm literally trying to push myself away from everyone so I don't have to deal with  _ ~feelings~  _ anymore!”

Shaundi’s face softened and she uncrossed her arms. She looked at me with a slight hint of sympathy and hurt. I’m on a fucking roll, huh?

“Is  _ that _ good enough for you?”

Shaundi sat and thought for a moment before standing up and closing the distance between us. When she put her arms up I recoiled, expecting a right hook to the jaw, not a hug. Hugs always felt weird as shit to me. Maybe it was because my “mother” was a hateful she-bitch and her form of affection was a flip-flop swat to the face.

But with Shaundi, it was… Something. My arms were still limp at my sides and wouldn’t go up no matter how many times I told them to return the affection. So I settled on resting my chin on her shoulder. It felt awkward and weird. 

“You need to apologize to Johnny.” she told me, her voice soft now. 

“I know.”    
“He’s taking it pretty hard, even if he won’t admit it.” 

“I know…” 

“And actually mean it. Don’t half-ass it.” 

“I  _ know _ .” 

She then pushed me out in front her and looked at me. “Stop pushing us away, Boss. We’re not going anywhere.”

“So you say.” 

Shaundi punched my arm when she pulled away. It was disguised as a friendly gesture, but I knew it wasn’t. Friendly gestures don’t leave a sting. 

“Don’t sell us so short.” she told me before practically shoving me towards Johnny’s room. 

* * *

“Gat?” The room was dark and Boss couldn’t see anything worth a damn. He knew Johnny was in here, however. 

“Look, you know this ain’t easy for me so I’m just gonna say it,” The Boss took a deep breath and let it out of his nose. 

“I’m an asshole, what I said was bullshit, and I’m sorry. Okay? I am honest-to-god sorry.”

The words felt foreign to him. He’s never actually apologized for anything. Not for drinking, not for the drugs or the sex. Hell, he never even apologized for accidentally killing that boy back in elementary school all those fuckin’ years ago.

But all that met his words was silence and he was worried his apology didn’t sound sincere enough.

“I  _ really _ am sorry, okay? I mean it, no bullshit this time.” Boss looked around and still saw nothing. Heard nothing. He could barely see his hands as he held them out in front of him. The blinds and curtains were closed so absolutely no light could come in and the light in the hallway outside of the room was dismal at best. 

He sighed again and turned around. “So uh, yeah. I hope you heard that because I’m sayin’ it again-” 

The Boss’ breath was knocked out of him when he walked right into something solid. He looked up to see an outline of Johnny’s face inches from his and he actually felt his heart drop. Gat could do anything at this point. Punch him, kick him, shoot ‘em.

Kissing him was not on the list, Boss had to admit. 

“You  _ are _ an asshole,” Johnny said when he broke away, but only for a moment before kissing him again. Gat wasn’t trying to be gentle, shoving the crime lord hard against the wall and attacking his neck.

“And Shaundi had to pull an apology out of you like it was teeth because you couldn’t grow up and do it yourself.” He grabbed the back of the Boss’ knee and lifted his leg up, Gat pushing himself against the other man to feel him. And, god, did he feel fantastic. 

“But it took some balls to do it anyway,” Gat was looking at him now, and lust was practically seeping from his grin. “So, to me, I think that deserves some sort of reward. Don’t you?” 

“Fuck yes.” Boss said breathlessly and grabbed Gat’s neck, pulling him back into a hard kiss. 


	4. Chapter 4

Boss woke with a groan, stretching his arms as they rested under his pillow. He was laying on his stomach, not an uncommon practice when he felt pleasantly sore like he did now. He wasn't even in his own room, either, he was in Johnny's. The Boss smirked and chuckled to himself as he went over the events of last night in his head. 

Boss had come in here for to apologize for being an asshole - something he's actually never done before - after some simple  _ “persuasion”  _ from Shaundi and Gat practically jumped on him. Gat had called it a reward, but judging by how goddamn sore Boss was it felt more like a punishment.

The crime lord carefully got up from the bed and froze when the other man grunted and shifted. Nothing was said after a moment and Johnny showed no sign of waking up so Boss continued to move. 

Lights were always a blinding bane in the morning and the bright bulbs that sat over Gat’s bathroom sink were no exception. After Boss had gained his sight back he was able to check himself out in the full length mirror that sat against the back of the door. He grimaced at what he saw. 

“Jesus, Gat.” he breathed as he eyed the several marks that lined his skin. Bite marks, hickeys, claw marks, red imprints and bruises from being gripped so hard. 

Most of these could be hidden by his clothes, but the rather large hickey on the left side of his neck was going to be a bit more difficult to cover up. 

Boss sighed and began to dress himself in the clothes he had collected off the floor, feeling kinda gross as he did. He could always go to his own room, shower, and change into something clean. Yeah. Yeah, that sounded good. 

The Saint slowly opened the bathroom door to see Johnny still sound asleep and he carefully made his way to the bedroom door. He's done countless times before, making him so practiced that he could have been half ninja.

But then he felt something he hasn't before, making him stop before his foot crossed the threshold. 

He didn't want to leave. 

Never has he wanted to just undress himself again and crawl back into bed and cuddle up to-

What the  _ fuck  _ was he saying?  _ “Cuddle” _ ? Was he a fucking house wife? Ethan goddamn Ross doesn't “cuddle” and he can bet a hundred bucks that Johnny fucking Gat didn't either. 

Boss left the room before he overstayed his welcome.

* * *

 

“Busy night, Boss?” Pierce elbowed the Boss’ arm when he caught sight of the hickey on the other man's neck. Boss only answered him with a disinterested grunt as he focused on his phone’s screen. “Who was it this time? Was she good? Or… uh,  _ he _ ?” 

Pierce had only recently found out that Boss swung both ways, which came as quite a shock to the face of the Saints. While it's true that the Boss has been with more ladies than dudes, he never really made an effort in concealing the fact that he'd do anyone. Be they female, male, or whatever. 

Nevertheless, the Boss gave his friend the classic “Shut up, Pierce” look and so he did. Shaundi, however, looked at the gang leader with a smug smile. Like she had a hand in what happened last night. 

In all fairness, though, she technically did.

“I know who it was,” she teased, which had gained her the same glare the Boss just gave Pierce but she sat unaffected.

“Who?” Pierce perked up like a schoolgirl that was just about to hear the latest gossip about that bitch Becky. 

“Oh, I'm not saying shit.” Shaundi said, relaxing her body into the purple leather couch she was sitting on, crossing one leg over the other. “I'd rather not get shot in the foot, but just know that  _ I _ had something to do with getting them together.”

Shaundi looked at Boss again, winking and grinning at him as he shot her a look of death.

“Damn, girl. Didn't know you were a pimp.”

Shaundi shrugged. “Hey, someone had to get him laid. He's been such a whiney bitch lately.”

The Boss stood abruptly and shoved his phone into his slacks’ pocket before walking away. Pierce laughed and Shaundi cooed at them, saying that she was just teasing. The crime lord rolled his eyes and continued walking. 

He took a cigarette out of his purple plated cigarette case - that had a fluer de lis experctly carved into the front of it - and stuck it into his mouth. He had a flick the zippo a few times for its spark to light a flame. The long drag he took off the cig felt great after not having one for almost two months. 

His phone then vibrated in his pants pocket and he dug around until he could grab a hold of it. The screen lit up as soon as he looked at it, showing a little envelope with the name  _ Johnny  _ under it. The Boss stopped in his stride to open the message and read it. 

“ _ Come to the garage. Something I wanna show you.” _

Boss raised a brow and reread the message a few times over. What could Gat possibly want to show him in the garage? 

He shrugged and stuffed the phone back into its aforementioned pocket and made his way to the elevator. He quickly sucked down the rest of his cigarette and snuffed it out against the wall before stepping into the elevator once the doors opened. If he could avoid setting off the steel box’s fire alarm again, he'd consider today a success. 

The ride down was filled with horrible elevator music and ever growing curiosity as Boss continued to wonder what could be waiting for him below. 

When the metal doors slid slowly open, Boss was greeted by the sight of Gat to the right of him, leaning against the plain white brick wall smoking a cigarette of his own that was almost gone. He looked over once he caught sight of the crime lord out of the corner of his eye and flicked the cigarette to the pavement. He stomped it out with his boot as he motioned for the Boss to follow. 

“What are you-” 

“Just shut up for second, man.” Gat butt in and the two eventually made their way to the Boss’ Bootlegger.

And immediately his mood soured. No matter what he did, Boss just couldn't get that damn car running again. He check over the engine countless times over, tightening this, loosening that, and oiled everything that needed oiled and then some. And despite that, he  _ still  _ couldn't get her to run, leaving her inert for the last few days to collect dust in the dark garage. 

It felt like a piece of him died when she did.

Yet here was Johnny, dangling keys on his finger as he opened the driver's door and pressed himself halfway inside. 

“It's no use, man,” Boss said solemnly. “I've tried goddamn everything to get that car to work, but nothing-”

The engine and car both roared to life and Boss’ heart lunched itself into his throat. Gat stepped out and motioned for Boss to take over, the gang leader nearly jumping into the seat with a girly giggle.

It felt  _ so  _ good to have that familiar rumble under his seat again. 

“Oh ho, listen to her purr!” Boss sang, smacking the steering wheel several times to emphasize his hype. Gat laughed and slid himself into the seat next to him. 

“But how in the hell did you get it to run? I thought I tried everything!”

“Obviously you didn't,” answered the other Saint. “It wasn't just one part of the engine that was fucked, it was the whole goddamn thing. Took some diggin’ with the tech girl, but she found a guy who owns a scrapyard. Wasn't hard to find another Bootlegger engine that still turned, just needed some work.”

“Seriously, is there anything you  _ can't  _ do?” Boss had a grin at his lips that threatened to rip his face open, hands gripping at the wheel so tight that his knuckles were turning white. “This is awesome, Johnny. Thanks.”

First he sincerely apologized and now he was thanking someone. It's been a big week. 

Gat just shrugged and sat more relaxed in his seat. “It was either fix it, or listen to you be a mopey little pussy about it.”

Boss snorted. “You're all heart, asshole.”

This gained another chuckle from the man as he leaned over and switched the engine back off. Boss was ready to protect but was silenced by Johnny pulling him on top of the other man. 

“Thanks are good and all, but,” his voice was suddenly low and it rumbled inside Boss’ ears. “I was looking for something else.”

The Boss smirked for a moment before leaning down and kissing Johnny, being none too gentle about it. Gat gripped tight at Boss’ hips, beginning to move them in a rhythm that grinded pleasurablely against his lap. Boss eventually took to it on his own and guided his hips alone, even going harder. This gained a quiet, but pleasured grunt from the man under him. 

While the Boss grinded, Gat's hands snaked down to the Boss’ belt and began to undo it. The crime lord cried out when Johnny's hand slipped under his boxers and gripped hard at his cock, wasting no time in running his gun callused palm up and down the shaft once he pulled it out. 

Johnny's other hand worked down his own belt, tearing it and the zipper of his pants open as Boss greedily bucked his hips against the friction. 

Both men let out a small moan as they felt the skin of their cocks run against each other. Boss kept his fingers dug into the seat of the car as Johnny's hand held them together as Boss did all the moving. 

Johnny undid the buttons of the crime lord’s blazer and dress shirt and pulled both down to the man’s elbows, leaning forward to bite and suck at the skin of Boss’ chest and nipple. Boss whined and moaned at the contact and Johnny held their cocks tighter, adding harder friction to Boss’ thrusts. 

Boss leaned forward and allowed Johnny to kiss at his neck, huffing and panting as sweat began to bead at his forehead. He thought he was going to lose his mind when Johnny ran his thumb over the tip of their cocks and slicked both heads in their pre-cum.

He was never one to be quiet during sex. As soon as he felt someone else’s touch his body flared into a kind of ecstasy that he couldn't  _ get  _ anywhere else. Not even from his own hand. And Johnny was something completely different.

Johnny was the first - and would be the only - person he bottomed to, and something about the feeling of this sociopathic gang banger eight inches deep into him sent him off in a fucking spiral faster than anyone else has ever gotten him. 

From the get-go it felt like Johnny knew just how to work the Boss to make him squirm and beg, to make his eyes roll back into his head before he was even half finished. 

He cut off his own loud moan by leaning down and biting into the seat over Johnny's shoulder, panting and sweating and whining at the sounds of Johnny's own sounds of pleasure. 

The Boss then positioned himself upright again, throwing his head back and grinding into Johnny's hand as hard as he could, groaning at the feeling of the coil tightening itself in the pit of his stomach. Johnny must have been feeling it too, based on the way his chest heaved in and out and the fact that he had his head pressed hard against the back of the seat with a wince. 

“Say my name,” Gat ordered, his voice carrying a demanding tone that Boss hadn't heard since he first joined the gang. It only turned him on more. “Say it,”

“Johnny…” Boss moaned, panting like he was out of breath. “Johnny!” 

Then it all stopped, Boss letting out a pathetic sounding whine as Johnny held his hip still with one hand. He was gripping it hard enough to make it hurt. 

“Beg. I want you to beg.” he said, and the growl of his voice alone was enough to make Boss moan again. “ _ Beg  _ me to let you cum.” 

“Oh God, Johnny,” Boss whimpered, letting out a yelp of pain when Johnny gripped him harder when he tried to move on his own. “Please. Oh fuck,  _ please _ Johnny!”

Gat let go and Boss went at it harder than he did before he was stopped, swearing and moaning and gripping the seat so hard it threatened to rip under his nails. He was supporting himself on his knees, thrusting as fast as his hips could move into Johnny’s hand and the man under him looked like he was ready to unravel.

“Oh fuck, oh god. Oh, Johnny!” Boss shouted as he put his head back down, wincing his eyes closed tight as he felt himself about to fall apart. 

“Ah, fuck!  _ Johnny!” _

The Boss came hard, releasing himself over Johnny's hand and his own stomach. He continued thrusting through his orgasm to bring Johnny to the edge. Soon, the man under him came with a struggled cry and Boss’ arm muscles gave out and he slumped against Johnny’s chest. 

Both men sat there and worked to regain their breath for a moment, Boss’ heart ready to thunder out of his chest. Johnny wrapped his arms under Boss’ shoulders and pulled him closer, burying his face into the man’s soft hair.

“Missed ‘ya leave this morning,” he said. 

“Yeah, didn't wanna overstay my welcome.” Boss admitted, his voice slightly raspy. He felt Gat's chuckle rumble against his chest. 

“Shame. But I wouldn't mind waking up like this tomorrow, just with less clothes.” 

Now Boss was the one to laugh, finding his strength returning to him as he pushed himself up again and leaned over to kiss Johnny. 

When he pulled away, Johnny was looking at him with a smile and Boss couldn't help but return it. 

And when the Boss suggested they go for a test drive, that smile turned into a grin.

“Thought you'd never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They did the frick.   
> The frACK


End file.
